Out From Under
by Anniepopokios
Summary: He returns to Midgard, barely escaping death, running from his captors. Bleeding and broken. But he refuses to be helped, no matter how painful it is to crawl back from the brink of his ruin. Until someone comes along and forces him to accept that he can no longer continue on his own. Eventual FrostIron
1. Falling

_-Decided I'd read enough Avengers story and wanted to create my own. Here I will strive to create a unique story and avoid making these characters seem OOC. I'm going to write them to the best of my ability. I'll probably be pairing Loki and Tony in the long run, since the idea is really growing on me. But I'm not entirely sure yet. Please let me know your thoughts, and if you see any merit in me continuing this. Thank you for giving it a chance._

The word corrector on my computer doesnt seem to be working. so I apologize for any errors.

_"So tell me where were you  
When everything fell down like thunder  
I begged you to pull me through  
I couldn't get **out from under**_

_Left me for dead inside my head_  
_Couldn't you see that I was still breathing?_  
_Screaming, I reached for you_  
_I couldn't get out from under"_

_-xox-_

He's standing near the edge. He can feel the lack of space, the sickness that comes from being in front of that drop. The one that makes your heart stop just by looking at it. Beyound that last bit of gray earth there is darkness. Dark, crashing waves, lapping at the rock's decline, coming to devour him.

Everything feels cold. There is a wind pressing against him, making his feet move, forcing him closer to the dark. It hurts, stings against his back, making him flinch.

Time is standing still.

He can feel the life ebbing out of his body, and his mind begging it to stay. Not wanting that warmth to leave, not wanting to be so cold. But it's creeping away, into that dark abyss below...

His blood is leaving his body. It's trickling out of him, dribbling on to the cold rocks, draining him of all hope for survival. Nothing he can do will make it stay. Nothing he can do will save his life.

He takes a moment to reflect. To think about what he has stood for. What his life has been composed of.

He thinks back to only person that still calls him brother, that still considers him family. Even if it is a lie, even if it makes him sick. His adopted father he so easily betrayed. The false family he so quickly gave up once he realized their deception. He thinks about all the people he's used, and the ones that tried to use him. He thinks about all the people he's hurt, and all the damages his caused.

There is no remorse for these things. Many of them he is still proud of, many of those deaths were deserved. In his eyes he was the reaper. He gave them what was justified. They made him feel powerful and important.

They gave him purpose.

But now he's standing here at the edge. No purpose. No power.

Only a dark frown on his face and red rolling down his pale, cold skin.

Only failure and pain.

His life seems insignifigant now, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. He's been stripped of everything. Left with nothing. No family, no power, no pride...Nothing. and he refuses to believe it is his fault entirely.

His life was set up for failure. He's some sort of sick hybrid of a person, something that fits in nowhere, something that never quite makes the mark, or meets the qualifications. So maybe its better this way. Maybe the dark will accept him more than the light has. Maybe this cold feeling is better than the warmth that is draining from him, causing him so much pain.

His thoughts cause him to leave reality. He becomes lost in them. Lost in the darkness, his eyes glued to the abyss below. But then he snaps back.

Painfully

Something is behind him. Something twisted and evil. He turns fast as his heart stops. His world stops.

There's a figure behind him. Towering over him, casting fear into his heart, reminding him of all his weakness. His failure. How pathetic he really is. He wants to step back. To escape it. But there's darkness there. and he doesnt think he can trust it.

Thanos is smiling down at him. A sick, disgusting smile, one that makes his heart sink into the bottom of his stomach. One that makes him want to scream and cry and run all at the same time. But his body refuses to move.

Thanos raises his hand, the muscules in his arm flexing fromt the movment. Huge, strong arms, threatening to take everything away from him. He feels himself flinch. Feels his body preparing for the pain that is sure to come.

And it does.

He slams his fist into Loki's stomach. And suddenly there is no ground beneath him. Suddenly there's the wind at his back again, lashing agianst him, biting at his skin. It takes him a moment to relize that he is falling. He sees that smile disppearing into the black, and he feels his heart sinking.

For a moment he thinks about giving up, about letting it take him. But that is not who he is. He will not give into that weakness. He must escape, somehow.

Then he's desperately clawing at the stone and the rocks, blood is coming up from his fingers as he struggles to get a hold. His world is spinning. He is begging, pleading with himself, for a hold. For a grasp on anything.

He's sinking.

But he can't.

The black is painful. It's ripping at his flesh now, tearing him apart, pushing the air of his lungs, making him scream. His eyes are burning, and something wet is dripping down the sides of his cheeks, mixing with the blood still leaking from his body.

His life is leaving him. He can feel it. He reaches out for the rocks, for something...anything.

And fails.

-xox-

It has to be a dream.

The only form of reassurance is in the feeling of his eyes snapping open, and his body feverishly waking. His heart is racing, pounding viciously in his ears, threatening to burst.

Immediately he becomes aware of his surroundings. Because there is still darkness, threatening to take him aagain. But he brings a trembling hand to his brow, and tries to wipe the sweat from his face and get a grip. He has to.

His entire body hurts. Moving is painful. He tries to stand up, but his bones are giving underneath him, he can feel them breaking. His knees are shaking and his back feels so heavy.

The dream was not entirely a lie.

He looks around at the ground beneath him and sees so much blood...so much of his blood. It's staining the dark leaves he'd been laying in. Marking the spot where he had collasped into a fitful nightmare. He swears it is at that moment that his heart stops beating. That his chest becomes cold and frozen.

Loki's eyes shift downward to his arms, and sees that they're shaking. Sees that there is blood leaking from them, and suddenly it is so obvious why he can barely make himself stand.

There's a cracking sound in the distance that horrifies him. Why is he so afrraid? His heart should not be beating like this, his body should be obeying him better.

But now he can see shadows in the distance, appearing between the trees, heading his way. Darkness coming to swallow him.

"There's no escaping your defeat!" A voices growls at him, over the trees and the shadows, thundering painfuly in his ears.

Fuck.

He turns on his heels, too quickly, and his body breaks underneath him. He collides with the ground, his knees crumbling beneath his weight, his body trembling. Fuck fuck FUCK.

Run you fucking idiot.

"You cannot run from us! I warned you! I will find you no matter where you try to hide."

The power in those words horrifies him. Because he's right. Because there is no where Thanos cannot find him. No escape.

Then why does he get up? Why does he pull forward and run with every ounce of strength in his body. His totured body carries him faster than he could have ever imagined. He's stumbling over rocks and sticks, cutting sharpely into his bare feet.

All he can think about is escaping this darkness. Out running it maybe? But where can he run to?

His eyes scan the thick trees passing him, the dark forest he is forcing himself through. His body pushes him through the trees, through the branches cutting into his skin and the rocks threatening to stop his pathetic attempt at escape.

But he can't run anymore. His lungs are burning and his body is shaking. But he mustn't stop. He can't fall back into those hands again. Hands that want to hurt, crush and break every bone in his body.

he looks back, thinking he hears Thanose's voice. But that was a mistake. Suddenly there is no ground under his feet and he slams into the cold, hard earth. The forest floor sinks into the earth, forming into a riven filled with rocks and a shallow stream. One he did not see. One that rips away any hope for survival. His burial ground, he thinks.

His head hits the rocks, feels the cold water biting at his skin. And he knows all too well that he has failed yet again. For a moment he curses the allfather. Because if he had not ripped him of his magic, he would have been able to escape. Or atleats put up a fight. But the god who onced said he loved him, and treated him like his own child, has no condemned him to die. Iy was so ironic. He would have laughed if it hadn't been so disgusting sad.

he has no way of defending himself, no way of survival.

So when he feels the darkness creeping up on him again, washing over his body, he lets it take him.

-xox-

lyrics come from Out from Under by Red

review pretty please!


	2. The Hero

-So much feedback on chapter one! You guys are so amazing! thank you so much!-once again I'll remind you that I have no spell check on my computer...so please overlook any spelling errors. if someone wants to beta let me know.

_"Brace yourself, the time is coming soon_  
_ For the night to consume you_  
_ Shadows dance across these walls"_

-xox-

He's sitting in his work room, enjoying the silence that night always brings. He's staring out the wall of glass windows, looking down at the city, at the dark below him. But when he looks up, he can see stars, a beautiful night sky. It's enough to calm him down. But his body is tense.

He buries his head in his hands for a moment and let's out a huge sigh. Frustrated. Too frustrated for his own good. Here he is, Tony Stark. A man so many people wish they could be, a man so many people envy. And yet he's too unhappy to play the role. Unhappy does not equate to ungrateful. But at this moment he is so angry with himself that he can't really tell the difference.

His research isn't going the way he wanted it to. Really it never does, theres no surprise there. But he's sitting here in the dark, drinking right out of the bottle of scotch in his hand, like he's never looked defeat in the face before.

He's in such a drunken stupor that it takes him a moment to realize Jarvis is saying something in tha background. He groans.

"Repeat that please." Does he really want to know? His head feels a little bit dizzy, and he's had enough bad news for the day. Where's Pepper when he needs her exactly? Oh but he's forgotten, he's the incredible ironman, he's not supposed to be need anyone.

"I've detected a large magical source about 40 miles from this location Mr Stark. It seems to have appeared out of nowhere, and is putting off a great deal of energy."

He sighs.

"Would you consider it threatening?" His bottle is on the ground before he even hears the answer, he allready knows. Jarvis would not bring it up if it wasn't important. After all, he programed him that way.

"Yes sir. Would you like me to send the cordinants to your suit sir?"

This was going to be a long fucking night. Suddenly he regretted leaving his scotch behind. He was probably gonna need it. It was late. Probably around two or three in the morning, he didn't really know. Didn't really matter anyways.

He was walking over to his suit, almost stumbling. He'd drank too much, but he was pretty good at controlling his body in an intoxicated state. Enough encounters with high doses of alchol will teach you how to deal with that.

He was in his suit and headed in the right direction in minutes. The actions felt so monatenous. Maybe he was too used to playing the hero. He tried to tell himself to focus and wake up as he took off into the night sky. The one he'd been staring at so tiredly earlier. He couldn't deny it felt good. He always loved the feeling of soaring through the air, above the bright lights of the city, made him feel important. It made him stand out even more, which of course he enjoyed.

But this was serious business afterall.

If you travel outside the city, really outside it. Past those eye-searing lights and the defeaning crowds of people with endless problems and troubles, you can reach a decent sized wooded area. He'd been there a few times actually. The only time he could really remember though, was when he took Pepper there for a pinic, once, after he'd gotten into a fight with her and made her really mad. He didn't really like the outdoors. But whatever made her happy he'd figured couldn't be too bad.

The forest looked different now. It was dark, so fucking black. There were thick, huge trees covering most of the floor from his view, jarvis had highlighted were the engery source was coming from, but he couldn't see anything from here.

The moment he broke through the tree line, he heard thunder booming in the distance. The ground beneath him seemed to shake from it's force, and it took him a moment to really stand up, to really analyze his surroundings. Damn that alcohol. He realized this was pretty stupid. But he wouldn't be Tony Stark if he didn't take risks.

This was one of those risks.

He could see the heat signatures in the trees a few yards from him. But he's heart beat skipped a beat when he realized how many of them were there, hiding in the darkness. Fuck. Maybe he should have called for some back up... too late now.

"Jarvis what are they exactly?"

"Sir, they appear to have the same energy signitares as the Chitauri, the beasts you fought a few months ago that threatened to destroy earth."

Suddenly he was angry. So angry. Because he was fucking stupid, and he didn't like feeling that way.

"Did you think that would have been important information for me to know earlier Jarvis?" He growled.

"You did not ask sir."

The word stupid pretty much took the cake.

"What are my odds of defeating them?"

"Highly unlikely sir." He could always count on Jarvis to be honest, even if it wasn't entirely in his favor to know.

He took a fighting stance, his muscles tensing up, ready to make a move, ready to do what he did best.

Ready to destroy.

His eyes scanned over the dark landscape quickly, trying to figure out how many there were. He counted ten. That didn't seem so bad, right? Maybe Jarvis had mis calculated.

But when they started firing at him, and burst of blue, searing hot engery came flying his way, he knew his AI had been right all along. He took a few steps back, suddenly wanting distance between him and the horde closing in on him. He was more frustrated now. This night really was beginning to go even more downhill, very very quickly.

He stopped doting on his low success rate, and fired. He took no time in planning an attack, or devising some sort of stragey. He shot at the huge trees, and they creaked and groaned as they fell to the forest floor. Creating a barrier between him and the Chitauri.

He let himself relax for a moment, and a smile crept over his lips.

Too bad it didn't last long.

The tree's bark shattered into a million pieces, and lighting whipped through the sky. For a split second he could see all of them in detail, glaring at him, dark grins on their faces, then there was darkness agian.

"Well shit."

"Mortal!" A voice growled at him from the shadows, booming through the air like the thunder shaking the very earth he stood upon, "Get out of our way! This matter does not concern you."

Immediately he realized he was standing between them and the city. That was their target! But why? there was so few of them compared to the army he had fought agianst months ago. And why now?This was not adding up.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that!" He yelled back, but his voice seemed almost humerous, when compared to that of Thanos, "Protection of the city does sort of concern me." It was his attempt at some sort of humor. It made Thanos laugh, but he frowned, that hadn't actually been his goal.

"You are so foolish. You do not understand." Well that was abit harsh right? Afterall he ahd defeated them before. Surely he could find a way to do it again. Even if it did mean hurling himself in to a portal to another world. He could risk his life again, if it was for the city and the people he had sworn to protect.

He was preparing to attack again, the turrets attached to his suit were humming with engery, ready to blast that smug look off the Chitauri's face.

But that moment never came.

They stopped moving. For a split second, the world seemed to stop spinning, and he just stared at them, so utterly, and nervously confused. Something didn't feel right.

Thanos stopped in his tracks. Suddenly a million thoughts were swarming through his head, he looked at the suit of iron, sticking out like a fire in the night, and grinned. This was what he needed. This was a new piece to the puzzle.

"You know what. I'll give you a chance to prove yourself mortal." He thought of Loki, and how he had disappeared somewhere within in the forest. Weak, probably on the brink of death, about to sink into a world where he could no longer reach him.

But this man was smart, intelligent, the perfect hands to help him. To fix the broken pieces of his toy, so he could play with him all over again.

"You will find your purpose in these woods, and for that I might just spare your life."

Tony was about to reply with a smug "no thanks," becauase he really didn't like being talked down to by a much of odd looking mutated...what were they exactly? Ugly. That was a good word for them.

He was about to fire straight at Thanos, to do some real damage, to make a point, but he never got the chance. Because in the blink of an eye, with the ripping of the lighting through the night's sky, they were gone. All of them. And the forest became silent, the only evidence of their presence laid in the remains of the downed trees.

His mind was racing, trying to come up with a resonable cause for their actions. But there was none he could come up with.

But there was no time for an answer, because he heard something behind him. He turned on his heels, quickly.

Rain was starting to pour down, seeping in through the treeline, rolling in heavy drops down his suit.

"Jarvis what was that?"

"I do not believe we are alone sir." Fuck. Was this some sort of trick? Where they surrounding him, ready to stab him in the back? But it didn't sound like Chitauri, and he could no longer feel the cold dread that came with their presence.

It came again and he damned himself for his hearing. It just wasn't good enough.

He took off in the direction the noise was coming from. Not bothering to hesitate or think. He tore through the brush, and the dark, and the rain. It was clearer now. It sounded like someone choking, it sickened him really.

"Hello?!" He shouted into the rain, afriad that suddenly the Chitauri had taken a victim, afraid he had been too late to play the hero today.

There was something up ahead, he could see it. Pale, whiteness in the dark forest. But the rain was making it so difficult to see. Frustrated and completely on edge, he released his iron mask, trying to get a better look.

Fuck.

There was someone else here.

They were hunched over in a shallow creek bed. He could see how sickly pale they were, and their skin looked painfully streched across the bones of their spine. But that wasn't really what concerned him. There was blood. Alot of it, mixing with the rain water, pooling around the figure.

"Are you okay?" He approached them quickly, like any hero would, rushing to the aide of a stranger. But that was where he made his first mistake.

Loki was fucking panicking. He'd blacked out again, and woken up to the crashing of the thunder in his ears, to the world sounding like it was ripping apart at the seams. His head was fucking spinning uncontrollably, his vision was blurring and god, his heart was beating so fast it hurt. His chest was going to explode. He swore he was going to die right here.

This what it felt like to be mortal.

Now he knew why they cowered beneath him so easily, for this was so horribly painful. He was choking, his lungs begging selfishly for more air. Wasn't he allready breathing? Why did he need to choke and suffer to draw air into his body?

He hard a voice, felt a presence behind him. Suddenly he was back in his dream. It was Thanos.

Come to kill him.

Suddenly his body obeyed him, moved faster than he swore it could have.

This must have been what they described as the will to live. because he sure as hell felt alive now. He lunged at the shadow behind him. Going for the only visible target he could see. Skin.

His face.

He screamed as his thin finger's scratched at the man's face, clawing into his skin, drawing blood. He forced his weight on him, all of his pathetic, tiny frame. And it did exactly what he wanted. He'd caught his enemy off gaurd and they both went falling into the mud.

But he was at the top.

He was suriving.

His eyes were wide and white, his hands were shaking violently, and he could feel his throat burning was screams, tearing through his body. It took him so long to realize this perosn was not Thanos.

But that did not stop him.

Tony did not react correctly. And he cursed himself immediately. There were fucking claws at his face, boring into him, so dangerously close to his eyes. He was panicking, he had no time to register that this person was Loki. That this person was bleeding and weak, that he could barely put up a fight.

All he saw were bloody fingers, trying to fucking gouge his eyes out.

It was the alchool, it dulled his senses. Made him an easier target. Made the world underneath him spin, and his head feel dizzy. He cursed his body, but somehow managed to bring his arm up, and slam it into the crazied being attacking him.

The figure let out a yelp as he was hit, and immediately those deadly fingers were gone, leaving nothing but blood in their path. Tony watched as his target hit the ground, with a sickening crack. His face slammed against the rocks of the creek bed, and immidately his body stopped shaking.

Immedaitely there was nothing but a disgusting silence.

He realized too late what he had done.

Blood.

There was so much of it.

It was trickling down his attackers head, streaming from his dark hair. The victim let out a disturbing choking sound, and tony could see more crimson staining his lips.

Oh god.

Fuck.

He was a murderer. He'd just fucking killed soemone.

He'd done it a million times. But that did not make it easy.

This person did not look like a terrorist or a Chitauri. He had such a tiny frame, and Tony had no idea how he had managed to over power him for that moment of fear. He was dresed in a torn gray shirt and dark, mud stainned pants...no shoes. His feet were bloodied too.

Immediately he sprang forward, overcome with guilt, wanting to be the hero again.

He hesitated for a moment, but then he put his armored hands on the man's shoulder, and tried to turn him, so slowly, so carefully, so he could see his head. See the fucking damage he'd just inflicted.

His eyes were closed, and his body was shaking violently. There was so much blood, too much.

But he opened his eyes for a moment, and that was the moment Tony stopped breathing. Stopped functioning. He was slapped violently, with the reality of who this person was.

"Stark," the man spat through the blood, and a sicenking smile twisted on his lips. But it was repalced so quickly by a look of misery, and his eyes closed in the pain. He wasn't sure if that was rain rolling down his cheeks, or tears. it didn't matter.

Suddenly everything made sense.

The chitauri had never sought to reach the city.

"Loki!" Fuck, what the hell was he doing here?! Thor took him back to Asgard...he wasn't supposed to be earth's problem anymore. Was this some kind of sick trick? He stepped back, stumbled in the mud, and ended up falling backwards, landing on his ass like an idiot.

"Jarvis, why didn't you tell me he was here?" He was panicking. He needed to keep a cool head, needed to overcome this, but how? When this made no fucking sense.

"Sir, there is no magical engery coming from him, he did not show up as a threat on my radar." No magic meant...fuck he was really going to die. He'd fucken hit his head, it was pouring crimson. His blood was all over Tony's hands. He felt like he was going to be sick, and he cursed himself. He was never going to drink again, not when it made him do this.

Not when it made him a fucking murderer.

There was so much rain, and cold, and blood.

Suddenly failing expeirments didn't seem so bad.

"You're," Loki was trying to speak, but all he could really do was cough, the words hurt, they burned in his throat, "no hero." If he was about to die, he was taking this man's sanity with him. He had to do something. Had to leave a mark somehow.

But this hurt so much. His head felt like it was shattering into a million pieces, like someone was stabbing him over and over agian with a dull knife, cracking his skull.

And it made him cry. It made him so disgustingly human.

No failure was worth this. This torture could not be justified.

"Fucking hell," Tony cursed everything. But there wasn't anytime. There wasn't time to hate himself, he could do that later. Suddenly he was on his feet, and he was bending down, scooping up the bleeding figure in his arms, hugging him to his chest.

He wanted to leave him. Wanted to let him die, he more than earned this.

But there was a look in his eyes that was screaming for help. And he wouldn't be a fucking hero if he ignored it. More importantly he didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he left him here to die, even if it was Loki.

It was not his job to let people die.

So he was tearing through the crying sky, clinging to the bleeding figure in his arms, trying to keep him safe from the storm. Trying to do something to right the wrong he had just caused.

-xox-

thought this one up while I was making sandwiches at work(i work at subway it sucks). Im so fucking weird.

Lyrics come from No Bleeding on the Carpet by Outline in Color. I generally post lyrics of what inspires me during each chapter.

Please review!thank you for reading!


	3. Burning

_I hate this chapter. I've always loved writing, so I have a sort of style I try to stay in, but sometimes I can't get the poetic juices flowing, so I write crappy sentences and fill them with words like fuck. Kind of like I do in real life when I cant think of anything relevant to say. Anyways I love some parts of this, and hate others. and I swear to you all the cute romance stuff is coming soon. It takes me a while to get anywhere. I'm like a snail. sorry. and THANK YOU for all the follows and reviews. You guys make me want to type more. I love your support._

-xox-

He's home but there is no warmth.

His suit had kept away the chill from the rain, and yet he still felt so terribly cold. There was nothing right about this. How could someone so tiny, feel so heavy in his arms?

Once he was safely in his lab he took a moment to really anazlye what was bleeding in his arms. To try to understand that. But that seemed impossible now. This was definately Thor's brother, that was for sure. But that didn't make him understand.

He was bleeding pretty badly. There were smaller cuts and scratches all over his body, but that wasn't really what concerned Tony. It was the only real damage he'd caused.

Gently, he set his body down on one of his emtpy work tables.

His mind is fucking racing. Usually he's so level headed, but this isn't one of those times. He'sa genius, he knows that, then why are his hands shaking so much? And why can't he seem to get a grip on himself?

It's the alcohol.

He swears that must be the problem.

Somewhere deep down inside himself he knows he doesn't want to help this person. He know's theres so much more blood on those hands, and knows that they might cause more, if given the oppurtunity. But he pushes those feelings down. Because he reminds himself that's not his place to judge.

Besides, he's been through enough tonight. The chitauri were cold, gruesome individuals, whatever he'd been through had probably been enough to warrant him a good night's rest. Atleast then Tony could figure out what to do with him in the morning.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

For someone so intelligent he really seemed to be lacking in proper word choice here. that seemed to be his only reaction at the moment.

"Okay get a grip Tony," He told himself, burying his head in his hands for a moment and letting out a deep sigh. Getting all worked up never helped anyone, actually that was usually what made things worse. He knew he'd done enough of that tonight.

But his head felt so clouded, it was so hard to think, so hard to attempt to fix his wrong.

"Jarvis," he groaned, "a little help here?" This reminded him of the time he'd seen so many of those Chitauri swarming out of that portal, come to destroy the city he loved. There'd been so much dread and fear, for a moment he'd been completely powerless, unable to move, or think or fucntion. This was definately like that time.

So he turned to Jarvis.

After all situations like these were the ones he'd been created for. When his usual intellect failed him, it was good to have an AI around.

"Sir, I believe that head wound might have caused him to suffer a concussion."

Oh that sounded just lovely.

"and how do I go about detremining that Jarvis?" Step one. That made him calm down a little bit. Direction did that. Goals, plans. If he had one, it was not whether or not he could succeed but by what means and how quickly he could reach success.

"I believe we must seek a medical professional to detremine that sir."

He felt something inside his stomach clenching up, making him sick. He couldn't do that. Shield would be all over his ass if anyone figured out who this person was. And besides, he didn't want to get anyone else invovled until he knew what he was dealing with first. He was going to have to play doctor for the remainder of the night.

"Jarvis do a scan of his skull, see if it's fractured."

The results came in as a negative, which was good. Actually, it was more than he'd hoped for. So he quickly gathered one of the first aid kits from a nearby shelf and worked on cleaning up the blood coming from the cut on his forehead, hoping that would help a little bit.

He poured some antiseptic onto a rag, and gingerly dabbed it at the man's forehead, suddenly fearful that he would wake up, and completely freak out on him again. That thought reminded him of the cuts that were on his face...that was going to be an interesting conversation starter for sure.

He'd figure that one out tomorrow.

Right now he needed to concentrate on this frail being who was losing a large amount of blood, all too quickly for him to grasp. He hadn't realized until now that the cuts on his arms were pretty deep, and that they were leaking blood onto the table. It rolled off the edges, creating tiny puddles on the floor.

"Goddammit," he grabbed quickly for some bandages, and nearly lost his balance in the process. Useless, that was his word for the day for sure.

Somehow, by the grace of god, he managed to get some messy bandages wrapped around his arms and forhead. But they were quickly staining over, turning an ugly pink color.

If he had not of been so intoxicated, or exhuasted he would have taken this time to notice how extremely malnurished Loki looked. But considering his current "condition" he was more frustrated with how his wounds didn't seem to want to spot bleeding, and how he could barely keep his own eyes open.

Frustrated, he picked the body back up in his arms again, hugging him to his chest. It was at this moment that he realized how cold he really felt. He was no longer wearing his suit, and Loki was soaked to the bone with rain water. The paleness of his skin might have bothered Tony too, if he hadn't been so eager to return to his own bed.

Somewhere in the back of his head he knew he was kind of a selfish person.

He loved doing good, but that didn't mean he was completely selfless. Half way down the road he would grow tiresome, and want the ride to end.

He felt like he was at the end now. So instead of figuring out how to properly treat his wounds, or how he was going to detremine what kind of state his body was in, he was carrying him up to one of the guest rooms.

One that had never even been used.

In fact when he kicked the door open with his foot he had to look around for a second, because he'd never even seen the decor before.

How much did this person wiegh exactly? because he felt limp and lifeless in his arms. In fact if it hadn't been for the shallow rise and fall of his bony chest, he would have labeled him dead on the spot. But there was still hope for him he supposed. He wasn't exactly sure if that was supposed to cheer him up or not.

Because right now all he felt was compeltely, and utterly exhausted. He didn't have much room for any of those other things.

Regret, fear, guilt...

He was a horrible person.

Admittiance of guilt was the first step to recovery, right?

He set him down on the large bed at the edge of the room, near a wall of glass windows. The bed was covered in soft looking white sheets, and if it hadn't been for his mud stained clothes, he probably have been lost in all that white.

Tony took a step back, and realized just how tiny and completely harmless he looked. A few months back he would have never believed someone who had threatened to rid the entire earth of life, could look so pale and fragile now. This night was truely full of surprises, he supposed.

But he frowned, because he realized he was still in his drenched clothes. He really didn't want to mess with him anymore, not after what had happened earlier. With every passing second he was worried he would wake up. And with how much strength he'd exhibited earlier from that frail body, he didn't know what he was capable of...probably alot more than it looked like.

But he sat down on the edge of the bed, and tried to gingerly pull off his shirt. Instead he ended up yanking it over his shoulders, peeling the wet clothes off of his body. He grimaced when he saw what was udnerneath.

The skin covered by his shirt was a black and purplish color. Deeply bruised. The area around his rib cage espcially, and he could easily make out each one of his bones unerneath his skin. Once agian he noted how dead he looked. How much pain his body had to be in. He wasn't even sure if he was in a state he could heal from. Surely there was no strength left in his body...but all he had to do was touch the gorey marks on his cheeks to realize that was a lie.

There was something still here, struggling and begging for life to continue.

He ended up peeling the rest of his clothes off quickly, and throwing them into a pile beside the bed. He didn't bother drying him off, because he honestly didn't want to touch him in this state. His body looked grosteque, and he quickly yanked one of the sheets over him, turning away, oddly disturbed.

He'd probably seen worse before.

He knew what it was like to be tortured and abused. He'd seen it a million times too. He had expierence with this. But that didn't make it easy.

Fuck he wish it had though.

This god, or whatever it was that he'd been reduced to now, needed serious help. But he couldn't give it. He didn't really know how. And fuck his head was throbbing, and he every bone in his body was begging for sleep.

So he pulled some more covers over him, and left him there. Didn't attempt to wash off all that mud, blood, all that pain and disgust. Just left.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he was acting like his father. Someone he'd never been entirely fond of.

But that notion was overrun by the alcohol in his system, and as he stumbled to the elevator and groaned for Jarvis to direct him to his room, he knew he wouldn't remember this in the morning. He'd wake up nauseated, tired, and with a headache never before known to man.

When that was over maybe he'd try to dissect all of this.

But right now he was kicking off his shoes, and collasping in his nice, warm bed. One that still smelled of Pepper's perfume, and all things light and good about the world. One he could get lost in.

And he did.

-xox-

He was waking up. He could feel his body regaining consciouness, the feeling of his body slowly creeping back into his tired bones.

The first thing he realized, was that there was weight on top of him. That he was covered by something, and for a moment his mind starting panicking, and he could feel his body tensing up, painfully. But then he realized how soft it felt agaisnt his skin, and he allowed himself to calm down.

He'd never felt this in the Chitauri's grasp, or back in his isolation chamber in Asgard. No. This was completely different. He felt warm and dry, almost comfortable.

His eyes opened so slowly, and it took him a long moment to gather in his surroundings.

There was white.

So much lack of color, that for a moment he though he was still dreaming. Then the fuzzy images started becoming more crisp, and he could make out the contents of the room.

It struck him all at once.

The light streaming in from the window, making his eyes burn, the strange decor, unlike Asgard, unlike anything he was familar with. The strange smells, the lack of sound, the absence of color.

Fuck.

His heart beat was racing again, and suddenly he sat up, frantically.

That was around the time he realized he was no longer wearing his mud stained clothes. IN fact he wasn't wearing anything. There was something tight around his forehead, and his arms stung. He looekd down at them and realized someone had attempted to bandage some of his wounds.

He didn't know how to feel.

He chose fear.

Because he didn't trust anyone anymore. He'd been patched up before by the Chitauri, when he was near death, because they hadn't wanted to lose him yet.

Because they weren't done tormenting him. As far as he knew this could just be a trap set by them, to trick him into feeling safe.

With each passing second he was literally causing himself to panick. His mind was running through all the horrible possibilities, all the components of his situation that were not safe.

He didn't know where he was.

He didn't know who brought him here, or what there intentions were.

In fact he didn't even know how he'd gotten here. He racked his brain for answers, anything that would put him at ease. But the last thing he could remember, was running from Thanos. Was feeling so helpless and afraid that it had completely consumed him.

He was compelled to run again.

Because right now no one seemed to be watching, and he knew where ever he was, he needed to get away. Because staying here surely meant more torment, it usually did.

He was weak, yes, but he wasn't about to just lay here, and let whatever it was come to him. If he still had the strength to fight, he would.

So he tried to summon up what energy was left in his body, so he could stand up, so he could escape. But the mere action of sitting up fully, hurt. His back ached, and his head was throbbing so fucking painfully.

His eyes closed shut, and he tried desperately to get a grip, so he could get out of this. But his legs felt so heavy, and as he moved them so that they were slung over the side of the bed, he knew this was going to be impossible. His legs were shaking, and he stared down at the floor.

Nothing about this was fair.

Never in his life had he felt this much pain at once. His body had always been his to control and heal. He'd healed so quickly too, mended his broken bones with magic, and brought life back into his bruised skin.

But now he was forced to feel every agonizing second of it.

Every second that his body refused to get better. Every second it rebelled until it brought him to tears.

Somehow, he stood up.

But his sucess was so short, and it quickly reminded him of how weak and pathetic he truely was.

Because he fell so quickly.

His legs gave out underneath him, and he grabbed at the table next to the bed for support. Instead he ended up topling it over, sending it's contents to the floor with him. The glass vase, holding some very fake looking flowers, shattered into a million pieces on the light colored floor. He landed on his side, and felt himself whimpering from the sheer embarassment of it all.

Because now he was laying here, completely exposed, utterly exhausted, in someone's room, in some god forsaken place, waiting. Waiting for a stranger to find him.

He'd rather them let him die.

That would be better, than seeing him like this, laying broken on the floor. Tears of shame burning in his eyes.

So when he heared a knock on his door, he screamed at wheoever it was to leave.

And then his throat burned too.

-xox-

Please review! Thanks everyone!AND I'm not trying to make Loki completely pathetic, please take in to consideration that he keeps trying, to be pathetic I feel like he'd have to give up and accept his situation. That doesn't sound like Loki to me. He's fully prepared to resist any help. Trust me. Even if it is from sexy mr. Stark. haha


	4. Trust

Thanks so much for all the follows! I'm like akdfhkaslfhldss so in awe. Thanks so much guys! Sorry for the late update. Work has been killing me!

-xox-

Waking up felt worse than any pain he'd ever known before.

And when he heard a loud knocking at his door, and someone's voice on the other side, his first instict was to ignore it. He didn't open his eyes, instead he pulled the covers over his head, groaning.

"TONY!"

Instantlty he knew it was Pepper when he heard the door slam open. No one else had the courage to barge into his room like this. And then she was tugging angrily at the bed sheets, fighting with him.

"Tony!" She growled angrily at him. This was getting really old, way too fast. She'd come over here after an important meeting, in the middle of the day, to find him still passed out in his bed. On the way in she'd seen the empty bottles laying on the ground. He'd been drinking. Alot.

She hated it.

"WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

He gave up, let her take the covers. She tugged on them, expecting there to be resistnace on the other side, and ended up almost falling on her ass. If he hadn't been so hung over he would have died laughing right then and there.

She just stared at him for a moment, completely seething with anger. He could see it all over her face. And it was actually quite terrifying. But he really wasn't in the mood for anything. Didn't being a genius millionaire warrent him as much sleep as he wanted?

Not with Pepper. Nothing ever got past her.

"You missed the meeting," she knew he wasn't really listening, she knew he was hungover, "I really don't ask you to do that much Tony. I go to almost everything that should require your attention. I manage pratically everything for you! And you can't go to one meeting?!" But she ranted on and on anyways.

"Pepper, could you please lower your voice? It's still so early in the morning..." he yawned.

"It's fucking 3 o clock in the afternoon."

She just stood there, with her hands on her hips, looking like she was ready to kill him, while he slowly tried to wake himself up. He sat up and stretched.

"What happened to your face?"

Then suddenly it hit him.

Everything came back to him in a rush so quickly it left him breatheless. Last night.

Then he was springing to his feet, rushing past Pepper. He was parying that last night had only been a dream, something insane created by his intoxication. So as he was hurrying down the hallway, hearing Pepper yelling from behind him, he was almost too afraid to reach that door.

And find out what was on the other end.

It was just as bad as he expected.

Maybe worse.

The vengeful god who had threatened to destroy everything he fought for, that repsrented everything he fought against, was laying naked and bleeding on his floor.

Everything about last night had been true. He could see it in the messy, bloodied bandages wrapped around the man's arms. And sudddenly he felt horrible. Because last night he'd been so fucking drunk. Because it was miracle Loki was even alive.

"Get out!" He tried to scream at them, but his voice cracked. It was so obvious that he didn't have the strength left in him to put up a fight. But he had to try. His back was turned to them, but he still felt completely exposed. His face was burning red.

He could see both of them out of the corner of his eye, the stupid playboy and his little girlfriend. She was standing a little bit behind Stark, a look of pity in her eyes. That made him sick.

Humans weren't supposed to pity him.

He could picture Odin laughing right now. Because if he'd had his powers this would have never happened. But not he was at the mercy of these pathetic individuals. Of who both happened to have the upperhand at the moment.

It took Tony a moment to wrap his head around the situation, and calm down enough to figure out what to do. But this time he wasn't intoxicated, this time he could easily think of his feet.

"Whoa there reindeer games," he needed to diffuse this situation, because he knew Peper was going to kill him later, "We're um, we're here to help."

Telling that to Loki just did not feel right. He supposed it would grow on him, hopefully...

Quickly, he picked up one of the white sheets off the bed and drapped it over him.

He felt fucking terrible. He was smiling a little bit, that silly smile he always got when he tried to act like he had everything in control. Like he had no feelings. But really deep down inside, he was looking over at the figure on the floor and wondering why he had left him like this.

Those banadages were messy, coming unraveled at the ends, and Loki looking so sickly. He looked so fragile, huddled over on the floor, and he bent down beside him.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me." Loki growled at him. And it hurt a little bit, because he figured he deserved it.

"Really trust me, I dont want to," He said cooly, "but right now we really need to get you cleaned up. Pardon me, but you looking fucking terrible."

"You've done enough." Stark's voice was so annoying. He flinched when he talked. he felt his arms shaking at his sides, reminded him that if he had still had his magic at this moment, Stark would be dead. He would have curled his fingers around his neck, and tore his throat in half.

"Now now-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He raised his arm to strike, drawing a surprising amount of strength. But his body trembled, and he gave up. Collasped was more like it. This body didn't feel like it was his own anymore. The way it resisted his every move. The way pain stabbed at his spine everytime he tried to defend himself.

This body was so pathetically useless.

He coudln't try anymore. And he felt the darkness creeping back up agian. His eyes were darting around, triyng to get a mental hold over hismelf. He saw the blood, trickling onto the floor around him...staning the clean, white room. Ruining it's purity.

He couldn't help it. He let himself fall into the dark again.

But this time there appeared to be someone else to keep him from drowning.

-xox-

Pepper left.

More like stormed out, but left seemed much more professional a term. She'd been so shocked, and angry at Tony. She'd told him she was leaving, and those were the only words exchanged between the two.

He yelled at her not to tell Shield as she slammed the door behind her.

-xox-

Loki thought they were so petty. So annoying. Even in his current state, with his wounds and his scars, he wasn't about to put himself on their level. That would be worse than anything. Worse than Tony Stark, his enemy, seeing him lying naked on his floor.

Or maybe not.

Because the mere thought of it made him flinch. Made his face burn red. He tried to calm down, tried to tell himself that none of this really mattered.

Because after all he was going to die anyways.

Because the Chitauri would find him. LIke they always did. And steal him away again. He was yet to ask Stark how he had managed to beat off Thanos. He was sure he wouldn't be able to believe the answer anyways.

Thanos was a force no one could reckon with.

He was left alone, and he thanked the gods for it. Because he was sick of feeling exposed and weak in front of these humans. Really he was hardly alone, because he knew Stark was sitting outside the door.

But he let himself relax, because this was probably as alone as he was going to get for the time being.

He was attempting to take a shower, to get all the mud and dried blood off of him. Just looking at it made him feel sick to his stomach. He needed all remenants of last night gone. And now they were washing away slowly, as the warm water fell down his back.

Stark had insisted that he help him. He'd looked at him like someone attempting to watch over a sick or dying animal. It made his stomach sick. He'd locked the door behind him.

He needed a moment to really digest everything that was happening.

For the time being he was in Stark's tower. Stark had somehow manged to fend off Thanos, granting him freedom for the time being. Sheild apparently didn't know he was here, and the All father must not have known as well, because Thor had not appeared yet.

This was the safest he was going to get. He'd have to live with Stark fussing over him for the time being.

The water couldn't wash away the cold feeling inside him. It was almost a dead feeling, and he knew it was justified. Because he didn't have any options now. He had nothing.

So he took this moment to recall everything he'd lost. His power, his family, his purpose...

and it made him shake and cry. It made him feel so fucking weak. But this was allright, because his tears mixed with the water, and no one could hear him crying here. So he crumbled to the shower floor, holding his knees to his chest and sobbing.

He allowed himself this moment of weakness.

He stayed there for a long time. Crying, trying to come to terms with the torment he'd endured over the past few months. Until the water started to turn cold, reminding him of the rain from last night. He immediately forced himself up and turned it off.

His body was betraying him agian. It was too weak. He struggled to get out of the shower, and ending up slipping on the wet tile floor. He didn't catch himself either, because he couldn't. Instead his body fell pathetically to the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs.

His head started spinning. He knew Stark had heard him fall and he prayed he'd just leave him alone. Panicking, he tried to force himself up, but his arms weren't strong enough, and they shook underneath him.

Stark was banging on the door now, demanding he let him in.

"Go away," he tried not to sound so out of breath, "I'm fine." But he wasn't fooling anyone. Stark kicked the door down, and he could hear him loudly making his way to his side. _God dammit._

"Get out of here I'm fine!" He yelled at him this time. So overcome with anger and shame, because he was too weak to do anything. Becuase he hated the way Stark rushed to his side, like he would to a sick child.

He expected him to mock him, to laugh at him. Because after all that's what he would have done if the roles were reversed.

But he didn't.

Instead he felt himself being picked up by arms that were much stronger than his own. He wanted to fight so badly, but he was so exhausted. Stark was wrapping warm towels around him, and he hadn't realized how cold he was until now. Until he was warm, and in arms that felt strangely safe.

Arms of the enemy, he reminded himself.

Stark was saying something to him, but he didn't understand the words. All he could think about was that feeling of being warm. Of his head, resting in the nook between Stark's muscular arm and his chest. Of his eyes closing, and his body relaxing.

Stark carried him to the same room as earlier, and gently put him down on the clean sheets. He mumbled something about going to get supplies, or something. The words didn't register. His body felt numb, and he missed the warmth of the other person the moment he'd left his arms.

He laid on his side, and watched sadly as Stark left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Part of him wanted to run over and lock the door, but the other part wanted him to beg Stark to stay. Conflicted, he didn't move. Instead he laid there and reminded himself, that he could not trust this person.

That no matter how weak and sad his heart felt.

He could not trust Tony Stark.

please review! thank you!


	5. Warmth

-sorry I kept you guys waiting!Between school and work I have like zero percent free time!

-xox-

When he comes back into the room, a medical kit in his arms, he finds Loki, curled up in a ball twisted up in his blankets. He sits down slowly on the bed, doing his very best not to wake him, and begins quietly going to work. The way he manages to clean the wounds, and wrap bandages around his arms so gently surprises himself.

This was everything Tony Stark was not. He was known for destroying, that was how he protected the ones he cared for. But this was something completely different, and he was honestly quite surprised he could manage to treat someone so delicately.

With Loki it wasn't hard.

He was so skinny and frail looking. Touching him felt wrong, as if any applied pressure would break the bones underneath. But now he really was being silly, because Loki was a god after all. He remembered being thrown out of the window of his own house, and fighting against a wave of Chitauri Loki had released unto the earth.

Frail maybe, but far from docile. There was still fight left in him for sure.

He parted some of the dark hair that had fallen over his brow, so he could see the gash across his forehead. It didn't look as bad as it had last night, when he'd been drunk out of his mind. The shock it caused had knocked Loki unconscious, but that was probably because of the weakened state his body was in, not the severity of the wound.

He sat there for a long time. Analzying him, his eyes moving over every part of his body, trying his best to make sense of it all.

The cuts on his arms were probably from the woods, he'd caused the trauma to his head, but that didn't explain all the bruises. And he could see some ugly, dark colored scars snaking across his back.

Taking in all of those wounds at once was very unsettling, and he quickly stuffed the bandages and gauze back into the med kit before exiting the room. This was not something he wanted to think about anymore.

Because every second he spent in that room he felt bad.

Bad because whatever had happened to that man was partially his fault. After all he'd helped defeat him. He'd helped hand him over to shield, twice. Both times he had known what was going to happen to him.

He shivered, and stormed down the hallway to his room.

That was something his father would have done. Trying to justify his actions when he knew deep down that they had caused hurt, that they were wrong. He didn't want to be his father.

The mere thought of his father made him angry. He didn't want to admit it, but it did.

The moment he reached his room he threw the medical kit across the floor, not bothering to watch as its contents scattered all over the ground. That's what bottling up his emotions did to him. They ended up bubbling up to the surface at once, and he ended up doing stupid things, Like any impulsive man would do.

So when he plopped down on his bed, and slammed his fist agianst the glass nightstand beside it, he was reminded of just how stupid he was being. Some of the empty bottles that had been lying on it slid off, and shattered into a million pieces all over the foot of his bed.

He pretended not to notice them, and instead grabbed for the half empty bottle, the one his anger had not sent falling to the floor.

It became apparent to him that he becoming mroe of an alcoholic than he would have liked. More like his sorry excuse for a father figure.

It was a sort of dependance on that state, the one where he didn't think about all of the things that were eating at his conscious. The one where he felt light and dizzy, and any coherent or relative thought process proved impossible. Where his demons could not reach him.

He laid there for a long time. Taking siwgs of the alcohol in his mouth, staring up at the dark cieling. Lost in his thoughts, and wishng he wasn't.

It dawned on him that he couldn't tell shield Loki was here. Not atleast until he figued out if they had been the ones that handed him back over to the Chitauri or not. He'd been told he'd been taken back to Asgard with Thor, but then again, he was sure shield had delivered that information. And he wasn't sure how valid those facts were anymore.

He couldn't trust them. He'd known that since he started working for them really. Or maybe it was just him not wanting to be controlled. Probably a little bit of both.

The alcohol burned in his throat, and he let the bottle drop lazily to the edge of his bed, and he heard it roll across the ground.

Maybe what really disturbed him was what he had saw in those woods. The Chitauri. Still alive and strong.

Weren't Thor and his people supposed to be gods? Couldn't they do something about those evil beings. He wasn't sure if he was strong enough, and he didn't like knowing that there was a bigger threat out there. That humanity was really only as safe as the Chitauri willed.

Nothing seemed to be going right either. His new modifications to the suit were proving to be very time consuming, and what was the point, when he knew he couldn't defeat the Chitauri? He'd lost his inspiration he'd supposed.

He realized he was still in the sweat pants he'd worn to bed last night, and he seriously considered just going back to sleep, Giving himself a day of rest.

He hardly even noticed as his body began to slip away, and his eyes began to close.

-xox-

Thunder boomed, and he swore he woken up to the entire tower shaking. He sat up immedaitely, startled, eyes darting around. His face felt hot and sweaty, and it took him a moment to realize he'd fallen asleep.

But when he looked out the glass window beside his bed, and realized it was only raining outside, he sighed and fell back against his pillows. He turned on his side, facing the window, watching the rain sliding down the glass. It was probably around five or six o clock now, meaning he'd been out for an hour or two. He still felt the effects of the alcohol though. It made him want to go back to sleep.

He was about to try when he heard a knock at his door.

Assuming it was Pepper, he groaned, "go away." The knocking stopped immediately ,and he heard a quiet voice behind it saying something that sounded like "okay." Fuck.

He was definitely the worlds biggest douche bag. Pepper told him a million times that's what booze did to him. She'd practically refused to be with him because of it. She told him she was sick of his attitude, and feeling unappreciated. Just thinking about that hurt. Because he'd honestly never meant to make her feel that way.

But he was getitng off track here.

"Wait," He sat up alittle bit, "you can come in if you want to." He streched his arms over his head, triyng to rid his body of it's tired, numb feeling. He half expected him to allready be gone. But he figured if Loki really wanted to talk, that was a good thing. Because he had a million questions that needed to be answered.

The door opened very slowly. And he was struck wondering how Loki had managed to get all the way to his room, considering the state he'd be in earlier. Still fighting, he reminded himself, still dangerous if he wanted to be.

But he looked failry harmless now. He was dressed in a pair of Tony's clothes, and they looked almost humerous on his small frame. He'd given him one of his hoodies to wear, and it practically swallowed him. The bandages on his arms were compeltely hidden beneath the huge black sleeves.

He stood there in the doorway for a minute, unsure. Because the only real reason he was here was because the storm was reminding him of the chitauri chasing him through the woods. And because it was terrifying him. He didn't want to be left alone in this, because he felt like he was back there again, back in all that darkness and cold.

When in reality he was somewhere that appeared to be safe, dressed in warm, comfortable clothing, and feeling better than he had in a long time.

So instead he told Stark he wanted to talk, which wasn't compeltely a lie.

"Sounds good to me." Tony say up on his bed, feeling a little bit awkard letting an evil god into his bedroom. But whatever. There was a first for everything, right?

"Please avoid the glass as you come in, I don't really feel like playing doctor anymore today." It was meant as a joke, but he realized it seemed sort of cold.

"Oh," Loki said quietly as he stepped into the room, the only source of light being that from the window, "thank you for that by the way. " He noticed the shards of glass, and the bottles all over the messy looking room, but said nothing about it.

He stood there for a moment, and the foot of the bed, looking nervously at Stark. Obviously uncomfortable.

"You can sit down, I don't bite." He'd expected Loki to make some sort of smart comment, or make fun of the state of his bedroom. Instead he was quiet. That air he'd had about him when he'd been hell bent on taking over the world and all that, was completely gone now. That arrogance was replaced by a nervous look on his face.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting as much space as he could between him and Stark, because after all. He was only here to talk. He wans't here looking for some sort of protection, or comfort. Even though he was mind was screaming at him, and he was flinching everytime he heard the thunder crashing agianst the windows.

"I didn't thank you before..." he said quietly, his eyes looking off into the shadows, "but I do appreciate you saving me from the Chitauri. But I'm afrai I can't really offer you anything in return."

"Um," Tony stared at him for a moment, because the conversation didn't feel quite right, " I didn't actually save you expecting anything in return. Just so you-" he cut him off.

"The all father took my magic just so you know. I'm of no use to you." He didn't really know why he was telling him that. Because it hurt to say those words. He hated being reminded of how weak he was. Just sitting up like this after walking over here had compeltely drained him. Stark's bed was covered in dark, warm looking sheets. Reminding him how much he wanted to fall asleep.

But the with the rain that was impossible.

"Actually I think we can help each other. Because I really need to know more about them, and I figured you'd have more knowledge than anyone else I knew..." Once again, that sounded cruel and cold. Did he always sound this insenstive when he spoke? Why had he not noticed it before?

"Well I..." he could tell he'd struck a nerve. A pained look was starting to creep over the pale mans face, "I don't really want to talk about them at the moment...I hope you understand that."

He nodded. He did.

But at the same time, there was so much he needed to know. Maybe then he'd stop drinking so much, and it seemed almost rude of Loki to withhold information form him after he'd saved his life. Surely that merrited thim a little bit of trust, right?

Apparently not. Loki didn't make eye contact with him, and he assumed it was because he was a mess. He'd fallen asleep drinking after all, he was sure he looked like shit.

" Sorry I'm not much of a doctor," he tried to break the silence, "But I can't really take you any-"

Loki turned to face him suddenly, a dark look in his eyes.

"I know."

This was a waste of his time. He felt worse now, because Stark seemed to have a way of reminding him just how much he owed him, and just how powerless he was. He'd come here seeking comfort, he didn't want to talk about himself, or his condition, or Thanos. Stark would never understand those things.

He sat up.

He wasn't sure if he wanted him to.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you. I don't realy think the things I know about the Chitauri are going to be helpful to you anyways, I don't know how to defeat them. Now that you know that, I would prefer you let me leave." He didn't wait for permission, he turned to leave.

But when his foot hit the ground he yelped, and pain shot up his leg. Fuck.

He felt something grabbing his arm, and fling him roughly back onto the bed. It took him a moment to realize it was Stark, but that didn't stop him from thrashing against his grasp.

"Get off!" He growled at him.

"Um I told you to be mindful of the glass. You don't exactly listen very well do you." He stopped fighting, and let himself calm down. Because he'd just stepped on glass, and Stark was only trying to help. But the fact that he was leaning over him was making him feel extremely uncomfortable.

Everything about this was actually.

Stark was holding his bleeding foot in his hands, and he really didn't want to be touched by him. Becuase he didn't want to be reminded of how he'd felt earlier. That feeling of being safe when he'd been in his arms. It was dangerously weak.

I was disgusting human.

"If you don't hold still," Stark's voice snapped him back into reality, and so did the pain in his foot, "I'm not gonna be able to get this out. And you can limp yourself back to you room."

"How sweet of you." He hissed at him, and it made Tony laugh. Because this situation really was rather humerous. And he could tell Loki was embarassed by it. The glass was fairly easy to remove, after all it had been a rather large piece. He got ahold of it and gently pulled it out.

"Might want to watch you step, especially with that whole no more magic thing." Loki did not seem amused by his words at all. He glared down at him.

"Would you get off me now please," honestly his body had stopped moving for a moment. He was looking into those emerald green eyes, filled with so many different emotions that they memerized him. Someone who looked so tormented, but in a way that confused him so much. In a way he didn't understand. Because when he'd been tortured, before he became iron man. He had never had that much pride in his eyes.

"Oh yeah sorry." He rolled off of him, and reminded himself yet again that it was a bad idea to drink when Loki was around, because he lost all repsect for his personal space.

Then the thunder boomed so loudly, Loki felt like the tower was shaking again, and lightening cracked and the rain behind to beat aginast the window so roughly. It was horrifying, it was just enough to send him completely over the edge. He grabbed for something to keep him steady, to keep him from drowning in the storm.

And before he knew what was really happening, before he could stop it. He was displaying all of his weakness and pain, in a way that was so fucking shameful.

He clung to Tony, wrapped his arms around his chest and refused to let go. Buried himself in the warmth and the stench of alcohol.

"They're going to take me away." He whimpered, and he could feel his fingers digging against Tony's sweaty skin, refusing to let go. Refusing to go on without some form of protection.

He closed his eyes, and figured Tony would be angry, and probably pull him offf of him ,maybe that was why he was holding so tightly to him.

But he didn't.

Instead he felt the steady rise and fall of his chest underneath him, and no one tore the warmth away from him. His enemy did not turn him away.

It startled him, to say the least, and for a moment he just stared at the mess that was now forcing it's way into his arms. He supposed it was a step in the right direction. Because Loki had been refusing to show much emotion in front of him before. He knew he was afraid. Anyone in his situation would be.

Fear was only human, after all.

So he wrapped his arms around his smaller frame, and decided he'd let him stay for awhile. Because despite his arrogance and pride, right now he needed someone. Someone that was not like Tony's father. Someone he was trying so hard to be.

Besides, he felt warm in his arms. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd held anyone. No one came to Tony stark for comfort. Help, yes, but comfort was different. They knew he was just as cold and messed up as they were.

But here was someone who barely knew him, trusting him. Making him feel warm and cozy. And he was sure it wasn't just the alcohol in his system. Sure it was a little bit more than that. Because this felt surprisingly right.

"I won't let them." he whispered.

-xox-

-Guys it's five in the morning I'm gonna go die now! Please review and let me know what you think! thank you so much for reading!


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